


against a wall

by stelleappese



Series: kinktober 2017 [2]
Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Donny's number one kink seems to be violence too so be warned, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Rough Sex, like a lot of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 05:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12248331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleappese/pseuds/stelleappese
Summary: Donny may or may not have a massive crush.





	against a wall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Kinktober 2017](https://kinktober2017.tumblr.com/post/163962052261/kinktober-2017).
> 
> Prompt: "Against a wall".
> 
> (I think I tagged everything; if there's any problem at all let me know :P)  
> (Also I can't write Aldo's voice to save my life, so sorry about that.)

Before he went to war, Donny never even considered the possibility of being attracted to another man.

Before he went to war, there were pretty girls in colorful dresses; he liked them smarter than him and aware of that, he liked the way they always had something to teach him, the way they'd climb on top of him and press him down against the mattress, pinning his hands above his head.

Of course, before he went to war, he didn't know Aldo Raine existed, either.

  
  


It doesn't come as a world-shattering revelation. It's not the proposal to go bash in some Nazi skulls, although that's alluring enough; it's not the extremely detailed way Aldo tells him he'll be allowed to do that, although that does sound ridiculously pornographic.

It's what comes after Aldo asks him: “You ever scalped somebody?” and Donny answers he may not be as good a barber as his dad, but he's not _that_  bad.

Aldo laughs, he nods at someone, and a battered Nazi soldier is brought to him and thrown on the ground. The two privates who escorted him give Aldo the same, almost terrified look, and retreat very quickly when they're dismissed.

He grabs the Nazi by the hair, tugs his head back, orders Donny to pay attention, and starts cutting.  
Maybe it's the look on his face, a look of total concentration, almost the same look Donny's dad has when he's at work. Maybe it's the animal screeching that comes out of the Nazi, or the blood on the dusty ground, or the way Aldo's knee is pushing into the Nazi's back as he saws his scalp off.

Whatever it is, Donny is so hard it hurts.  
  


 

Still, it's not like he can tap Aldo on the shoulder and ask him if, sir, could he please be allowed to suck his dick?

But he does join the still-only-theoretical Basterds; he helps Aldo pick the rest of the gang. (It's not just the promise of violence, of the bloodiest of satisfactions, that makes him do that, nor the embarrassing need he seems to have to do whatever Aldo tells him to do. It's the deep, indignant anger he feels at the way the goyim in the Army who know what's being done to the Jews in Europe look at him and the rest of the Jewish soldiers; the pity they never showed before, the fucked up solidarity of people who only seem to like a Jew when he's a victim. And if there's something Donny isn't, it's a goddamned victim.) He stands beside him as he trains the Basterds, and he knows, pretty soon, there is _a lot_  he would do for Aldo without him even having to ask him.

  
  


When the moment comes, and they're dropped in Fuck-Knows-Where, France, Donny follows his orders and listen to his superior; which is something he's never done before unless he was naked on his knees in front of a woman. He's not allowed to smash faces in until he learns how to properly scalp someone, which turns out to be harder than Aldo makes it look, and fucking Hirschberg keeps being trigger happy, so the Nazis aren't even alive when Donny gets to do it. But he learns, eventually, or at least gets good enough at it (or maybe Aldo's just bored, it's hard to tell what goes on in his head,) and the first time Aldo unleashes him is almost as good as sex.

He's been waiting for it for so long. He's been fantasizing about it since he was still back in Boston and the Army wanted to send him to a fucking island in the middle of the Pacific. The Army didn't know him half as well as Aldo does.

Jesus Fucking Christ, does he love it. The impact reverberating up his arms, the impossibly satisfying crunching of bones, the blood spraying his face if he hits just right.  
He's panting, grinning hard, standing with the unmoving body of the piece of shit at his feet, when this small, distant voice in the back of his head tells him good men do not do these things. But the voice is only audible for as long as it takes Donny to look up to Aldo, seeking for approval, and finding him staring at him with a dazed look on his face, biting his lower lip.  
Donny swallows. His lips are wet, so he instinctively licks them, he tastes blood, and Aldo breathes in and out, gets up, and hands him his knife.  
“You ain't finished yet, Sergeant. Get to work.”  
Donny grabs the knife, eyes fixed into Aldo's. “Yes, sir,” he says, and kneels down in front of him. He's still not the greatest scalp-taker around, but he does what he needs to, and when he's done, he hands Aldo his prize when he's still kneeling on the ground.  
“Did I do good, sir?” he asks, and he's almost surprised at his own words, at the soft tone of his voice.  
Aldo doesn't answer, but he does grin at him.

  
  


So things go on as usual; there's the hiding, the fighting, the killing, the scalping; there's Donny swinging his bat at Nazi skulls while his fellow Basterds laugh and cheer and clap, there's Aldo studying him as he does so, and there's Donny's offering of a scalp to him, even though he's had him practice so much he's well over a hundred by now.

And there's the one night Aldo asks him for a word and walks away from the rest of the shivering Basterds, all wrapped up in blankets since they can't light a fire.  
“You're very eager to please, ain't you?” Aldo says, when they're far enough, leaning against the stone wall of an old-looking, half-crumbled little house.  
“I like my job,” Donny says, “Sir,” he then adds.  
“Why d'you keep taking scalps?” Aldo asks, with a little shrug. “Your ain't got no debt with me.”  
“I do it because you like it, sir.”  
The moon is full and high up in the sky, so Donny can see Aldo smirk at him.  
“As I said. Eager to please.”  
He's not sure what Aldo is trying to say. He's trying to think of some way to answer him, when Aldo moves away from the wall and says, his voice low, “Since we talking 'bout what you like and what I like. Would you like me to fuck you against this here wall, Sergeant?”

Now, _that_ , was not something Donny was expecting.

He has no idea what to say, but his mouth moves anyway, and he hears his voice, tight and embarassingly childish, say: “Yes, please.”

Before Donny can really think about what he just did, he's grabbed by the shirt and pressed against the wall, Aldo's hand roughly guiding Donny's against his cock, his free hand yanking Donny's hair to make him tilt his head back. Aldo bites and sucks at Donny's throat, rubbing himself against Donny's hand; Donny's dick hasn't even been touched yet and it's already painfully pressing against his pants.

He doesn't mention he's never had a cock in his ass before, but he doesn't think it would make that much difference to Aldo anyway.

Donny blindly tugs Aldo's pants open and pulls out his cock; he rests his head back against the wall and starts jerking him off. He's just beginning to enjoy the feel of Aldo's cock in his hand, big and hot and heavy, when Aldo turns him around and presses him against the wall without fussing about it.  
“Come on,” Aldo says, his voice almost a low, threatening growl. Donny swallows down a moan and unzips his own pants, pushing them down as much as he can before Aldo finishes the job for him. Donny hears him spit, then fingers are pushing into him and he tenses up.  
“Relax, Donny,” Aldo whispers, “You gotta breathe.”

Breathe, thinks Donny, breathe.

But Aldo seems to have noticed Donny has no idea what the fuck to expect, because he slows down; he takes his time as he fucks him with one finger, then two; he reaches around and starts stroking Donny's cock.  
“Don't that feel nice?” he asks.  
“Yeah,” Donny murmurs, “Yes. Please, just...”  
Donny's words die in his throat when the third finger is pushed in. It feels uncomfortable, both the feeling of something foreign inside him and the position he's in, but his cock has still been hard all the way throught it, and Aldo's murmuring in his ear keeps making shivers run down his spine.

Then Aldo takes his fingers out and guides his cock in, pushing slowly, in small little thrusts, until he's all the way inside Donny and his legs are shaking underneath him.  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Donny whines. It doesn't really hurt. It burns a little, it feels big, and Donny feels so fucking _full_.

And Aldo may have been patient until now, but it's fucking Nazi occupied France and none of the Basterds has fucked anybody in months, so he takes hold of Donny's hips and starts fucking him hard and steady, pulling almost all the way through before slamming back in. Donny's way too far gone to remember to be quiet, and Aldo reaches up and presses a hand against his mouth.  
“You want all the damn camp to hear us?” he asks, but his tone is very close to a chuckle.  
So Donny keeps moaning against his hand, he reaches back and grabs Aldo's ass, spurring him on, silently begging for more.

“That how you like to be fucked, Sergeant Donowitz?” Aldo asks, “Good and hard, 'till your legs give out?”  
Donny slams back against Aldo, he closes his eyes and presses his head against the wall. He gropes for Aldo's hand and guides it back between his legs.  
“What you say we find us a table, next?” Aldo grins in his hear, jerking him off enragingly slowly, “So I can bend you over when I fuck you,”  
And there's so little friction Donny probably comes from those words alone, from the thought of being bent over with his ass up and Liutenant Aldo Raine fucking him so hard he won't be able to walk afterwards.

Which is, funnily enough, pretty close to what's happening now, because Donny's knees do fail him and he plops down, shaking a little, feeling boneless against the wall.  
“You think you can take me fucking you 'till I'm done?” Aldo asks, and Donny grins against cold stone.  
“Fuck yes,” he breathes out.

  
  


He does walk funny for a bit, after that, and he feels sore pretty much everywhere, but that doesn't stop him from following Aldo every time he gives him an eloquent look and wanders away from camp.

God, he likes all of it. He likes how rough it is, he likes the burn of it, he likes Aldo demanding to be called 'sir' as he fucks him. It keeps him sane when there's no Nazis to kill, when there's no bones to break and blood to clean off his bat.

He likes every single part of it.

But then Stiglitz happens, and he fucks everything up.

 


End file.
